While you were sleeping
by Myah
Summary: Snapshots of events in the lives of various characters of Avatar. Incidents that showed the people they were; influenced the people they became- while the Avatar was sleeping.
1. Liar

**A/N: _This first chapter is the result of a conversation with Liliedhe at ASN about Katara's past. Hope you enjoy._**

* * *

**Liar**

The little boy was much aggrieved to be awoken just as he was about to spear the elusive fish. Remaining still in the blankets that kept him warm despite the snowfall, he listened to the silence and wondered what had woken him- just as the quiet sound came again. He froze. Trying to ignore his fear, he asked himself what kind of coward was afraid of a small noise (and ignored the image of a huge Fire Nation soldier that appeared in his imagination). The sound came again- from the other side of the room, where his sister lay sleeping. Suspecting what it was, he rose and crept to her side.

He was right.

She'd kicked off the furs that served as her protection from the chilly night and almost rolled off the ones sprawled beneath her. She twisted- another small moan came from her partly open mouth. He shook her shoulder, trying to wake her, but she only twisted away as she began to whimper even louder. Scared, he ran outside, looking for his mother.

By the time he'd found her and they were running through the falling snow back to the tent, his sister's screams had already brought several of the villagers. His mother shoved them aside and ran to Katara, whom one man was trying to wake up- but she fought him, tears streaming down her face, trying to tear into flesh with her tiny nails.

"What are you doing!" she hissed and grabbed her child from him- just as her screams brought her father running.

"What in the-"

"Did you tell the kids more stories about the war tonight?" Sokka felt guilty- it was he who had pestered his father to tell him war stories before going to bed.

"She was sleep-" The little girl screamed again, as if to protest this half- statement. Sokka watched as his father quickly backed down and instead asked the villagers to leave. Torn between following him and staying with his mother, the little boy wavered on one spot- then a sound came that decided his actions for him. He smiled and walked towards his mother, and the screaming child she held tight against her chest.

She had begun to sing.

Her quiet melody was at first overpowered by the child in her arms as she rocked her, held her close, but the screams eventually grew less lusty, less desperate, and her voice- clear as a bell, light as the snow outside- drifted out of the tent to the few villagers who still lingered just outside.

But her song continued, as Katara eventually returned to her moans- even those gradually stopping. But Sokka could still see the tears flowing down her face. In the silence when her mother stopped singing, Katara's blue eyes opened and focused on their mother's face.

"Mom.. the soldiers got you… and Sokka… and.." He wasn't surprised- she always got bad dreams after hearing war stories these days. If he didn't know that she'd get him back for it, Sokka would have called her chicken.

"No, sweetheart. It was just a nightmare. We're all here. See?" she said, pointing to Sokka, then to a figure just inside. Sokka turned: their father stood just inside the doorway. He smiled at them, then stepped outside.

"No soldiers?"

"No soldiers." His mother wiped the tears from Katara's face and walked across to the rawhide doorway. He followed them, slipping outside as his mother pushed the material aside to let Katara see. "It's a beautiful night. No fire, no death. Just the snow."

She was right- the snow was beautiful- falling slowly from the sky, light, airy, free. Tiny stars falling from the sky above; the tears of the moon. The fresh fall covered his world in a clean coat of powdery white.

But as beautiful as it was, Sokka knew that it was cold. And wet. And beneath the beauty lay any number of dangers. He looked at his mother, at the happiness on her face, and wondered why she didn't realize that. But she only looked down at him, that special smile in her eyes and on her lips- the one that made him feel like nothing could touch them, as long as she was there. As long as they were together.

They went back inside after a while, Katara falling asleep again. "Baby", he thought, in the midst of a huge yawn. Suddenly, his bed looked a whole lot better than the falling snow. She tucked them back into bed, promising to stay until they had fallen asleep.

Sokka was just nodding off when a sleepy voice woke him again.

"Mom?"

"Yes, sweetheart. I'm right here."

"Will this war ever end? Will the others ever come home?"

"Sure they will, baby. It won't last long again- you'll see. The Avatar will come, and everything's going to be fine. Everything's going to be all right." Comforted, the little boy drifted off to sleep.

* * *

A year later, the same little boy and his sister stood beside their mother's body, lying cold and hard underneath the blanket their Gran Gran had been knitting for as long as he could remember. His sister's fists were clenched, one hand wrapped tight around their mother's amulet. He held back the tears that were threatening to fall- for his mom, he'd be a big boy. And Katara would be a big girl, too. But as their father pushed the funeral barge into the water, he watched, heart as cold as the snow around him, as a single tear escaped Katara's guard, running down her face, along the side of her chin, falling onto the amulet she clenched. A whisper floated on the breeze as they stood and watched the barge disappear.

"You lied, mom. You lied."


	2. Leaving

**_A/N: Again conceived through PMs with Liledhe. I'd tell you to get out of my head- but your being there is working wonders for these drabbles!_**

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**Leaving**

The middle-aged man stood just outside his tent as the sun rose over the frozen tundra, watching as his crew loaded the last of their ships, hating himself for what he was about to do. But it was necessary. The world beyond his home needed his help. And if he didn't stand up with his allies, who would?

He thought he heard movement within the tent; he glanced at the entrance, wondering if his children were there after all. They had run off soon after the decision had been made early that morning to answer the call for help from the Earth Kingdom armies. No one had seen them since. He didn't want to leave before seeing them; they were his life. His sole joy now.

It was for them that he was doing this. He hoped that one day they'd understand.

His mind turned from the activity on the ships to the face he hadn't seen in years: Kya. The woman who had brought some peace to his warrior's heart. The woman he had killed.

He wasn't the one who had actually done the deed of course- but it was his eagerness, his lack of care, that had caused it. Why else would the Fire Nation come to their little village? So soon after he'd been making enquiries into a waterbending teacher? It was no surprise that the Fire Nation had thought that his wife was the bender, especially if it had happened as he thought it did.

Katara, running to him with news of a man in their house.

Running back, calling for help- too little, too late.

Holding his wife's burnt and broken body to him, deaf to Katara's screams; Bato had later told him it was this that had brought the rest of the warriors running.

There was no way Kya would tell them that the waterbender they sought was her own daughter. Nor would she condemn anyone else to a life of imprisonment. So she took Katara's place.

And paid dearly for his mistake.

Hakoda looked up as someone approached him- he looked into Bato's familiar face, and took some comfort.

"We're ready, Hakoda." Silence; both men knew that though the ships were ready to depart, not all of their crew were.

"Just give them a few minutes, Bato. They know what time we're leaving. They'll be here before midday." Bato nodded, but Hakoda could tell that he wasn't as sure about this as he was.

* * *

Time crept past as the men watched the shadow of the tent- and their own- shrink over the snow, counting down to the time they were to leave if they were to have the best chance of getting past the Fire Nation ships that patrolled the waters further along the route they were to take. Hakoda noted that the days had gotten even longer as they moved towards Midnight Sun. He calculated how many days were left before that time, wondered why he had told the men that they would not be returning to the South Pole after helping this village. He'd burnt the tent he had shared with Kya, but the memories still haunted him. Was he really leaving to help the war effort, or to run away from his memories?

He didn't know. Not anymore.

The shadow of his tent disappeared. Bato said nothing. Hakoda sighed, knowing that once again, his duties as Chief came before those as a father.

He stalked off towards the ship and the waiting villagers, kind enough to leave him to his solitude before. They all knew he was waiting for his children; the eyes that met his were heavy with sorrow.

"I'm sorry, Hakoda," he turned towards the voice; Kana stood next to him. He smiled briefly at the old woman whose child he had murdered.

"No. I am." She took hold of his hand, squeezed. They were not going to have this argument again to worsen this already tragic day.

Hakoda turned to the assembled villagers, waiting as they said farewell- perhaps forever- to husbands, fathers, brothers. Sons. Men.

He watched Tullik embrace his youngest daughter, his pregnant wife. They stood together for a minute, then he turned away. His wife stood proud, watching her man as he left to defend his people. Another family the Fire Nation had separated.

He watched as Tikaani strode through the crowds, looking neither left nor right. He ignored his comrades, heading straight for the ship. No one to say farewell to. Not anymore. Another man the Fire Nation had shattered.

He watched Bato embrace his sister, Miki. Ruffle the hair of her newborn son. Beside him, he saw her husband, Yakone, almost break as he said goodbye to the family he had just started. Almost heard the whispered plea for vengeance his wife undoubtedly added to help him stand proud. Clearly saw the remembered ghost of a beloved father murdered in raids past. Another family the Fire Nation had brought grief to.

He watched Arrluk wait for the woman who would not come. For she still blamed him for the sons they had lost when they had gone out to war years before. He watched as the man finally gave up hope, walked slowly towards the ship. Another man the Fire Nation had broken.

He watched Siki broke down as her youngest child turned away and walked towards the ship. He never looked back. A boy forced to become a man long before his time.

Another family the Fire Nation had torn apart.

He would not stand back and do nothing as they did it again.

He gradually became aware of a disturbance to his far left; two figures running across the snow. Hope grew, filling his chest.

"Dad!"

His children flew through the crowd, almost mowing him down as they dove into his arms. He fell to his knees, Sokka in his left arm, Katara in his right. Sokka was so big now, proudly wearing the war paint of a warrior. But he knew he wouldn't be allowed to go. Katara beside him, wearing the hairstyle of an adult, holding back her tears as he brushed his hand over her hair. Twelve and thirteen, and he was leaving them. His babies no longer, yet always so.

"You weren't going to leave without saying goodbye, were you?"

"Of course not, Katara. I was waiting for you."

"After you beat the Fire Nation, you're coming home, right?"

"I promise."

"Good."

Sokka was silent. Hakoda knew what he wanted to hear.

"Sokka, you're the man of the village now. It's up to you to look out for your family." The boy looked up at him, ecstatic at finally allowed to feel like a man. Hakoda wondered what kind of world they lived in now, that parents were forced to help their children grow up long before their time.

"Katara, look out for your brother. And keep up your training." She nodded. Her fingers went to her mother's amulet. Hakoda prayed she never found out what had caused Kya's death- that was one burden he'd be glad to spare his baby girl. He saw a tear roll down her face. "It's going to be alright, Katara. You'll see." The hand she had wrapped around his arm tightened, then relaxed.

Empty promises. Their staple food now.

But she surprised him. She looked up at him, refusing to wipe away the tears swimming in her blue eyes- so like her mother's.

"I know it will. The Avatar will come and beat the Fire Lord. Then you can come home again." He smiled at her hope- ever since she was little, she always imagined that the Avatar, that heroic figure of her childhood stories, would ride in and save the day. That belief had only strengthened after Kya's death. He hoped, if only for her sake, that this war didn't take everything from her before she accepted the fact that the Avatar was gone.

"Yes, baby. Then I'll come home." He stood and watched his children, then looked around at the village he was about to leave. He had said his farewells to them already- looking at the faces around them, he saw that many were about to break. He would not prolong their pain. Instead, with a final salute, he walked away.

Felt Bato fall into step just behind him.

Watched the faces of his men move closer as he approached them.

Felt the rocking of the ship as he boarded.

Gave the orders to leave.

He must have done it right, for the boats began to move.

Looked back at the shore.

Saw the image that would be burned into his mind for years to come. His tiny village, nestled in the arctic tundra. His people standing in the open, looking out at the boats. Some had already given way to their grief; one could only be strong for so long.

Sokka in his war paint, standing tall and proud. Katara, still not giving in to her tears, but with one arm wrapped around her brother. Both of them looking out to sea, to the world that called their father away from them, to the war that had scarred them.

To the father who had no choice but to abandon them.


	3. Retreat

**_A/N: Sorry about the delay on this one. First, I had it on my USB for months before remembering to post it to my dA account- and again, it was months before I remembered to update it over here ^^;_**

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**Retreat**

The General stood alone at the top of the hill.

Behind him lay an expanse of ruined walls. Ahead of him, still too far away to be seen, were the inner walls of the city that still refused to surrender. His face, turned toward that city, was marked by the deep wrinkles recent grief had carved. But he had only himself to blame for this pain.

The vision still seemed so close; as real as the day he'd first seen it. Had he been misled? He tried to summon his anger, to hate the Spirits for what they had shown him, but he could not. In his darkest hour, he had cursed the Spirits for their revelation; but now, he could only blame himself. It was he who had set out on this mission. It was he who had pre-empted what the Spirits had showed him; despite warnings. And in the aftermath of the last battle, as the smoke and dirt cleared from the fields, he had discovered what the price of his actions would be.

_Looking outside of his tent as the wounded were brought in, counting the cost of the latest skirmish. His vague sense of unease that escalated when he saw four soldiers carrying one body into the camp; the grief and panic, the glances towards him. Feeling himself moving towards the burden they carried. Sensing the people moving out of his way; sympathetic voices. A wail of grief from Natsuko, who had insisted on following her fiancé to war._

_Oh Agni, NO!_

_Falling to his knees next to the broken body of his only son. Running hands over his crushed face, broken arms. Down his twisted torso. The blood pooling below his body._

_The screams someone let loose as he wept._

In that split second, he'd aged thirty years. His bones complained whenever he moved. His eyes not focusing on the numerous reports brought to him. His mind sluggish, refusing to take in the numbers. But he saw.

So many deaths. The costs of war, paid in blood. In the pain of its innocents. In the tears of mothers that would never again hold their children.

And he was so tired. Tired of fighting a war he could no longer believe in. It had taken the Spirits' intervention and the loss of his son to make him see what he must do.

It was time for him to end it.

For this was no mere General: he was the Crown Prince of his Nation, marked as such by the royal artifact he wore. His duty was to his people: it was long past time that he did it.

A voice floated through his mind: _"You will never rule this nation that you love so well."_

He still didn't understand: was Ozai planning something, then? Or was he destined to fall before he could assume the throne? He sighed. Perhaps that would be better. To end the pain once and for all. But no- he still had to try.

He turned his attention to the sound of footsteps as someone approached. The faint scent of tiger lilies drifted on the breeze; he smiled, thinking of the one nod to gender of his aide. Still trying to prove that neither family rank nor gender had anything to do with her position.

"Come to enjoy the view, Akane?" The woman came no closer.

"General, the council is waiting for you at the meeting tent. They've come up with a plan to turn this battle in our favour."

"No need for that, my dear. I already know what I'm going to do."

He bowed his head- a gesture of respect- and farewell- to the city in the distance. He turned to Akane, secure in the knowledge that this was the right thing to do. The only real choice to be made. If it was possible, her already military bearing seemed to become even stiffer as he spoke.

"Akane, notify the Lieutenant. Alert the camp. I believe it's time we returned home."

_Leaves from the vine  
Falling so slow  
Like fragile, tiny shells  
Drifting in the foam  
Little soldier boy  
Come marching home  
Brave soldier boy  
Comes marching home_


End file.
